


Collateral Damage

by bees_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath, Case Fic, Gen, Hellhounds, Rabies, cover story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3383162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Jody Mills is still getting used to the things that go bump in the dark. When a hell hound collects a soul in the most gruesome way possible, dealing with the aftermath brings uncomfortable challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Damage

***

Sheriff Jody Mills was thoroughly tired. She'd had a long day, and it was turning into a long night. Even though the crime scene had been secured and a deputy assigned to watch it, and the body – what was left of it – had been photographed and sent to the morgue, there was still reams of paperwork to be done.

She hated paperwork. 

She pulled up the photo file and studied the exhibits closely, although why she bothered, she didn't know. The sight of Dan Tavers's living room would haunt her nightmares for weeks to come. When she closed her eyes she felt as if she'd been transported to the blood spattered crime scene. She could smell his death: copper and excrement. Their harsh scents clung to her hair and uniform, even though she had worn a protective set of coveralls during her initial inspection, and in the subsequent hours afterward. She had personally supervised the forensics team, watching like a hawk for any evidence that needed to be suppressed before it raised uncomfortable questions. 

She needed a shower.

No coyote had broken into Dan's house and killed him. Although that was the coroner’s best explanation. A rabid raccoon had been trapped not far from Dan's place. If there was rabies in the local raccoon population then maybe larger animals, higher up the food chain, had been affected too. Rabies in its furious form could have driven a coyote to maul its victim, rather than just killing it quickly for food.

Except Jody knew better. Coyotes could be fierce when cornered, but they didn't inflict that kind of damage. They didn't rend flesh from limb and bone from bone, and then chew the pieces to tiny bits. 

She put the crime scene photos into a zip file and sent them to Sam Winchester with a one word email. 

_Monster?_

The reply came back ten minutes later. 

_Likely. What do you know about the vic?_

She sent off another query.

_Why?_

The reply followed almost immediately. 

_Just spit balling. Check ten years back. See what changed._

Jody frowned at the reply. "What difference would that make?" she muttered, Dan was dead _now_. But Sam and Dean were the experts. They were the ones who hunted the things that lived in the shadows. In their world, she was the rookie. She ran a tired hand over her face and neck, and felt the tension that knotted her shoulders painfully. "It's like being at the academy all over again." With a sigh, Jody got a fresh cup of coffee and began to dig into the life of Dan Tavers. 

Two hours later, she sat back in her chair and shook her head. Ten years ago, Dan Tavers didn't exist. She sent her findings to the Winchesters and headed home for her long delayed shower and for a couple of hours of restless sleep.

***

When she got in the next morning, the office was crawling with locals wanting to help find the rabid coyote. Jody groaned mentally, but she put her best professional face on and greeted the milling crowd, many of whom were old friends and occasionally, when there was a missing hiker or hunter, special deputies.

There was no coyote to hunt, because it hadn't been a coyote who had killed Dan. According to the Winchester boys, the most likely scenario was that ten years ago, Dan had made a deal with a crossroads demon. They might never know the exact details, but given his lack of history prior to that date, he had probably traded his soul for a fresh start, and now that the contract had expired, a hell hound had come to collect what was due, leaving Jody to clean up the mess. 

"Thanks for coming, everyone." Jody smiled warmly at the crowd of community spirited hunters. "I appreciate your willingness to lend a hand. But as you know, this coyote is extremely dangerous. Rabies is a highly infectious disease. The treatment, although not as painful as it used to be, is still not something I'd wish on any of you." 

What she was about to do grated. It was unethical and it didn't sit well on her conscience. But what happened to Dan had to be covered up. "Has anyone here been vaccinated against rabies?"

A couple of the men and one of the women raised their hands. 

"Fine." Jody tipped her head. "You three are with me. Everyone else, thank you, and please stay out of the area around Dan's place until the situation is contained." 

The dismissed volunteers filed out as Jody escorted her chosen few into the back office. "Fish and Game will be here in half an hour. We'll coordinate our efforts. Until then, hold up your right hand and I'll swear you in." 

Jody rattled off the words that deputized the volunteers without really listening to herself. All she could think of was some helpless coyote was going to die, and there wasn't a hell of a lot she could do about it.

***

An hour later they were on the move. Jody had paired each volunteer with either a deputy sheriff or a fish and game officer. They broke the area for five miles around the crime scene into a grid and assigned territories. "Chances are you'll come across its body," said Mort Wesson, Fish and Game's area manager. "If you do, don't touch it. Just call it in. Clear?" He met each hunter's eyes in turn and finally he nodded at Jody.

"Be careful out there," Jody said. They fanned out and dispersed, silently seeking their quarry. 

It was hot. Spring had been dry and summer would be upon them soon. Mort Wesson was worried that the coyote had been a bitch with pups, and that if she was infected then her pups might be too. Jody had mouthed the appropriate words of concern as she swore to herself. The potential death toll was rising. 

She had another grim thought. According to Dean, if the crossroads demon had worked the area, it was possible that there would be more mauled bodies. Jody briefly closed her eyes and prayed all the hunters would come up empty, and that Dan had made his deal in some other jurisdiction. 

They walked for hours. Pete Silver, the volunteer Jody had partnered with, had entered the woods with a frown marring his face. The further in he got, the more his frown deepened. "This makes no sense," he said when they stopped to catch their breaths. "Sheriff, I haven't seen hide nor hair of fresh coyote spoor or track since we entered these woods. Not a trace." 

Pete had the weight of experience behind his assessment. He'd been a professional hunting and fishing guide for twenty-five years. Jody looked up at the sun to mask her relief and noticed it was getting late. "Maybe we should head back." 

Pete looked around the rugged terrain with an experienced eye. "There!" He pointed to a broken limb and some scuffed bark. "See that?"

Jody nodded. "Yeah." 

Pete knelt. He picked up the branch and sniffed it and then shook his head. "Two weeks. Three at the outside. We're wastin' our time, Sheriff. The animal that did in Dan never came this way."

"You're the expert, Pete," Jody said. She shouldered her rifle and they walked wearily back to the cottage.

***

Nearly everyone had returned when they reached the rendezvous point. The other hunters looked as discontented as Pete.

Jody's stomach churned with anxiety, but she kept her expression bland. The cottage was a crime scene, taped off and sealed, but she couldn't very well say no to Mort Wesson. He'd seen the same absence of signs that Pete had. One look inside and the coyote story would go down in flames. 

She watched the hunters conferring and thought furiously, trying to come up with a backup plan. A crazed meth-head sprang to mind, even if the explanation did completely contradict the coroner's findings of a savage animal attack. Or possibly someone with clinical lycanthropy, except whatever the Latin was for coyote instead of wolf. Maybe she could sell the idea that someone had made themselves a set of coyote claws and dentures and worn them during the attack. She seemed to remember reading it in a book once. Or maybe it had been on Wikipedia.

It was a good story, if only she could sell it. 

Jody turned to address the crowd as the last of the group broke the tree line. Just as she opened her mouth, two rifles discharged. With a frown, she scanned the crowd, double-checking that she hadn't missed a team. Everyone was there. And every head was turned towards the dying sound of gunfire. 

Mort Wesson scowled as his cell phone went off. He looked at the face of the phone and then answered. "Ranger Who?" He looked over at Jody. "BLM," he mouthed. "Yeah. Thanks. No. I appreciate you letting me know." He thumbed the disconnect button and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "That was a Ranger Daltrey from the BLM," he said to the assembled hunters. "He says they just shot a dying coyote. Seems like our hunt is over, folks." 

Jody's knees wobbled with relief as she smothered a smile.

***

"Ranger Daltrey?" Jody raised an eyebrow as she held out her hand to Dean. "And I suppose you're Ranger Townsend?"

Sam glared for a second at his brother and then replied, "Entwistle, actually." 

For the first time since Dan Tavers's remains had been discovered, Jody smiled with genuine amusement. "Right. I can't believe you get away with using those ridiculous aliases."

Dean shrugged and his expression became puckish. "And yet, we do." He examined Jody closely in return and the smile that lit his eyes dimmed. "How are things going, Sheriff Jody?" 

Jody shrugged. "No one else has died horribly, except for the coyote, so I'm guessing … good? The coyote you guys shot is off to the state lab for testing." Her brow knit with concern. "What happens when the necropsy comes back clean?"

It was Sam's turn to shrug. "Then they have a mystery. But as long as no one else dies – " 

"Yeah." With budgets being as tight as they were, as long as there was no more trouble, no one was going to lose sleep over a dead, but otherwise healthy, coyote. 

"You look tired," Sam said as Jody settled behind her desk and he and Dean took the chairs facing her. 

Jody nodded. "You're not wrong." She shook her head. "I've been lying my face off to people since this thing broke. How do you boys do it? I swear, dealing with the monsters is easier." 

"It's a skill," Dean replied. "Like using a machete on a vampire. It gets easier with practice." 

Jody studied the faces of the two men. She'd watched them during the debriefing with Mort Wesson and marveled at how smoothly they'd bs'd their way through the meeting. They'd concocted a plausible story about picking up the trail of an obviously sick animal while out looking for a mobile meth lab, and following it until they'd found the coyote. And then of course, they'd remembered a hot shot memo that had come through the office that morning, and in the spirit of inter-agency cooperation, call it straight in to Fish and Game. 

"I still feel bad about that coyote," Jody admitted.

Sam gave her a sympathetic look, but it was Dean who spoke up. "There wasn't any other way. That kind of killing, it sparks interest. Feds. Inquisitive reporters. People you don't want poking their noses in. It's better to bury these things quick and clean."

"And when there's collateral damage?" 

Dean shrugged. "Then you do what you can to bury it too. Which is why that coyote is going to accidentally find its way into an incinerator tonight, instead of ending up on a slab tomorrow. So if you get a call from Pierre – " 

_If they got caught and couldn't talk their way out of a break in,_ Jody translated. "You call me." She smiled at the two brothers. "Should I be Ranger Moon?"

"Now that would be obvious," Dean said as he rose. He tilted his head towards the door. "Come on, Sammy, that carcass isn't gonna steal itself." 

Jody watched them go and felt the same odd tug in her throat that she did each time the Winchesters walked out of her life. For better or worse, she loved those boys, even if someday they were probably going to be the death of her.

end


End file.
